


Unusual You

by enigmagnetic



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blackwatch Era, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Fall of Overwatch, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-04-27 09:46:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14422773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmagnetic/pseuds/enigmagnetic
Summary: A gang called the Headless Horsemen are at large and in between blowing up their bases and staring at the midnight sky, a mysterious cyborg falls into the arms of Jesse McCree.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Like all great fic writers, I wrote this in the early hours of the morning and probably riddled it with mistakes.  
> This is my first Overwatch fic, and I love my angsty cyborg. Him being a part of blackwatch has me LIVING. Screw Mchanzo, Mcgenji makes more sense?? Sorry not sorry mchanzo shippers. I ship it too. Anyway, I'm making this up as I go. If i make any mistakes lore-wise, give me a heads up. I haven't done that much research.

A blood moon looms over Gibraltar as the last of Overwatch’s clandestine agents pour single file out of the dropship. Clad in all black, Blackwatch agents remain silent as they walk in a low-energy conga line back to their dorms. Missions for Blackwatch always end in fatigue and frustration, and today is no exemption.

They were in Nepal destroying shipments that were meant for the Headless Horsemen, a terrorist group that opposes overwatch and countless other organisations. They were to stealthily plant explosives on a shipment of illegal weapons and destroy them. It was crucial they destroy them, as they were avant garde, deadly with no government approval. The government didn’t even know these sorts of guns existed. Guns that fired biochemical ammunition. Once a bullet wound with these bullets is treated, the bacteria reacts with antibiotics, causing the victim to become contagiously ill. Whole towns have been wiped out with one bullet. A child, shot in the shoulder, treated as a high priority patient, taken to a hospital full of other children. Within hours everyone in contact with Patient Zero is dead.

It was a success, but there will be plenty more missions exactly like this.

It’s mentally gruelling, the constant “what if I’m infected” bouncing silently around everyone’s head for the rest of the day. The long flights, the close-quarters combat. It all adds up to a cocktail of “fuck off” for every agent.

Jesse lights up a cigarillo and diverges from the path. He could never sleep after a mission like this, a mission with a casualty. He feels guilty heading back to his own room when someone innocent dies; they didn’t get any luxuries, so why should he?

He heads to a cliff where he sits and watches the view. It’s sinfully relaxing, the blood moon. It’s like mother nature is saying “hey, I’m having a bad day too”. It’s well past midnight, and he almost falls asleep, but images of a little girl’s arm flying off her body keeps him on edge. She was the head arms dealer’s daughter. She was the casualty.

Jesse sighs and lets the smoke leave his nostrils. He tries not to think about Reyes gripping the beanie off his head and curling into a ball of frustration. Instead, he counts the stars and makes smoke rings with his cigar.

Gibraltar is a stunning island, and he’s glad he’s here and not rotting in supermax. He knows he should be grateful that Reyes gave him an option, but how can he be grateful if all he ever was with Deadlock was a weapon, and that’s all he is with Blackwatch? He was thrown away by his parents for his delinquency, he was thrown under the bus by the Deadlock gang when Overwatch dismantled them, and he’ll be thrown onto the streets once Overwatch finds out what he truly is.

He’s cursed with deadeye, a gift that makes him desirable by the evil who want things done magically. 7 people with a 6-shot. He rubs his right eye as he takes a deep breath. He’s been with Overwatch for a year now, and he’s been made to feel right at home, but today is just an off day. He’s been having a lot of those lately.

Jesse is in the middle of staring at the blood of the moon when something shifts behind him. Someone. Anyone besides Jesse would not have picked up on the miniscule sound, a mere pebble rolling slightly. He stands and turns, not exactly sure what he was expecting to find. Reyes here to coax him to sleep? Ana come to whoop him for not heading straight to her when he got home from the mission? Of all the logical things that should have happened, he ended up face to face with a man, youthful like he is but aged by stress, with a shard of glass presses to his throat.

They stared each other down, breathless. The other man wears an overwatch hoodie and pants that are too loose for his body, and a metal faceplate covering the majority of his face. A mask, maybe. He is smaller than Jesse but makes up for it with speed and light-footedness like Jesse has never encountered before. He didn’t even hear him coming, until he wanted to be heard.

A beat.

Slowly, the stranger lowers the glass from his throat. The red of the blood moon reflects off his eyes, half hidden by a metal visor, and then he’s gone. Not far, just to a rock balancing on the edge of the cliff. He stands on it with no purpose, crouching like he’s not sure if he should be standing there or if he should be running in the opposite direction.

Jesse finds the courage to speak after being stunned silent. “And who the hell are you supposed to be?” Jesse says, shoving his cigar back into his mouth.

The mysterious hooded man jumps off the rock and is back in front of Jesse in an instant, this time sans the glass daringly close to his jugular. He sways slightly, blood moon eyes staring at him with an exhausted intensity.

Then, he collapses. Jesse catches him before he tumbles over with him. He has his arms hooked under the stranger’s, the man’s head limp against his chest. Unconscious. Unsure of what to do, he carries the mysterious man to Dr. Ziegler.

 

*

 

“You did the right thing by bringing him here,” Dr Angela Ziegler says, gesturing for Jesse to help him take off the man’s clothing. It felt like an invasion of privacy, undressing some random dude, but it felt like a different kind of invasion of privacy once he saw the cybernetic beneath the clothing. “He’s a new patient of mine, been here 2 weeks and only just became conscious again earlier today.”

It was still 2am, as highlighted by Angela’s yawn. “Any idea why he was out in the middle of nowhere all by his lonesome?” Jesse asks, confident he knows the answer.

She sighs. “He isn’t the most compliant patient,” she says, tapping some notes onto a tablet. He nods, understanding. He’s not an Overwatch agent, and his cybernetics seem new. He must be a dismantled puppet, sewn back together by Angela whether he likes it or not.

“He got a name?” Jesse asks, sitting on the chair beside the bed. If Angela said “Jesse” he wouldn’t be surprised. This new patient seems much like he once was; damaged, distrusting, and disobedient.

“You’d have to ask him yourself. He hasn’t said a word to anyone, and as far as I’m concerned, this man doesn’t _exist_. No DNA matches on criminal databases, no facial recognition of him on any social media, no online passport photo matches, nada. Whoever did this to him erased him from the world.”


	2. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the people who commented, that especially motivated me to write this so soon. Also thanks to anyone who read it and remembered to hit that kudos. Much obliged. 
> 
> _italics are flashbacks ___

Jesse wakes up the next morning with a sore neck and the feeling of someone staring at him. He looks around the room and remembers the night before. The worry and pity that pooled up in his stomach as he saw the cybernetics for the first time, scarring along the edges where it met his human chest. He also, distinctly, remembers an urge to stay and sleep in this shitty hospital chair, not wanting the man he just met to wake up alone and scared. Again.

‘Christ’, Jesse thinks, as he imagines how he must have felt yesterday. Waking up, spending the whole day planning on how to escape, only to find out he’s surrounded by water, trapped.

The feeling of being watched lingers, and he spares a look at the man in the hospital bed. He should really ask for a name. It’s slightly annoying that he keeps referring to him as ‘the man’ in his head. As he looks up, Angela enters with breakfast for her patient. She smiles when he sees him.

“Hello Jesse,” she says, setting the food down on the bedside table. “Hello to you too.” She directs that one at her patient. He’s still staring at Jesse, and now that he actually looks at him today, he realises that his eyes are still red. Chills shoot down his spine, looking back at Angela.

“Hey doc. You look well rested,” Jesse says, noticing the dark circles under her eyes are slightly less dark.

“That tends to happen when someone watches over my patient for me.”

Jesse looks over to said patient. He’s _still_ staring at him. Jesse meets his eye for a moment, not wanting the man to think he’s afraid of him. Although, that’s probably what he’s going for.

Angela looks over to her patient, sighing as he narrows his eyes at Jesse. “How are you feeling? Is there anything malfunctioning?” she says, noting the small shake of his head. “Good. Let me know if you are in any unusual pain or discomfort. I have turned off the cameras, so if you need anything ring that buzzer. The cameras are never on. If they were, you’d see a red light. Try to eat today, okay?” Angela checks the machines are in working condition then puts a hand on Jesse’s shoulder. “Let’s leave him be for now, shall we?”

They leave together, shutting the door behind them. Angela sinks into her office chair, hiding her face in her hands. She sits there for a moment, then sucks in a big breath of air as she runs her hands down her face. “He should have been in an ICU somewhere, anywhere besides here. We have a limited number of nurses, and I question Moira’s ethics. He very well could have died at any moment the last few weeks. And it would have been our fault,” Angela monologues. She slides back in her chair, looking at Jesse who laughs and shakes his head.

“You underestimate yourself. If we were really that understaffed, and he was that close to death, do you think Reyes and Morrison would have kept him here?” Jesse takes a seat across from Angela, pulling out a cigarillo to smoke, opting to put it back from whence it came when the good doctor glared at it.

“They think he’s a criminal,” she says, scoffing in disgust, at her superiors, he assumes. “ _That’s_ why he’s here. Either that, or a freedom fighter of some sort, trying to take down the Shimada Clan, the criminal organisation Overwatch has been data mining for months.”

“How’d he get his injuries? How’d you find him in time to save him?” Jesse asks, intrigued more and more as Angela tells him about the mysterious man.

“We found him on a mission, one of our agents was halfway through a sting operation of the Shimada Clan, when they noticed two guards carrying a dead man and dumping him on the street. At least he thought he was dead, until he noticed his chest raggedly moving up and down. He sent me a message in Morse code. We were about to take off and leave Hanamura when I received a message.” She pulls up an automatically translated message on a hologram from her tablet.

“Angela. Man on street dismembered. Shimada Clan. Back entrance,” Jesse read aloud. “God, _dismembered?_ ” Jesse has to keep his jaw from hitting the floor, clenching it so hard it hurts instead.

“He is definitely involved with something bad, that’s for sure,” Angela says, moving her hair back and revealing purple and black bruises around her throat.

_“I hope you realise I am helping this man not for Overwatch, not for the greater good, but because I took an oath to do no harm,” Angela said, adjusting a red tube on his forearm. Commander Reyes opened his mouth to speak. “Neglecting care is doing harm, Gabriel.”_

_“Whatever you say, doc. Just let me know when he wakes up so I can question him,” Reyes said, shrugging, leaning against the bed._

_“You will not be questioning my patient until I say so, Commander. For the good of both him and your operation. Can’t risk him panicking and ripping his tubes out and_ dying _during your “questioning”, can we?” Angela said, giving Gabriel a side glance._

_Reyes sighed, “You’re right.”_

_Angela drew back, paused. “Well that’s a first.”_

_“I’ll have him handcuffed so he can’t do any harm to himself or others.”_

_When Angela shot him a glare he laughed. She returned to caring for her patient, pulling out a syringe. She paused and looked at his arm in confusion._

_“That’s odd, the needle that was in his arm giving him fluids is gone.” As Angela said this, two red glowing eyes opened and zoned in on her. Just as Gabriel noticed, the unidentified man lunged forward and caught Angela by the neck, rolling with her onto the floor, landing on top of her._

_“Let go of her, **now** ” Gabriel growled, pressing the barrel of a shotgun into the back of his skull. It seemed like the whole world went silent, except for Angela gasping for breath desperately. When he finally let go, he backed away into a corner, arms up and shaking. _

 

“Surprised Reyes didn’t just knock him out then and there,” Jesse says, gently pushing back more of her hair so he could see the whole picture.

“I guess he knew _I’d_ knock _him_ out if he dared touch my patient.”

It’s true, Jesse has seen her become animalistic when someone even looks at her patient wrong.

The buzzer on her desk went off, and Angela quickly got to her feet, speed walking into the next room. Jesse follows. “Is everything alright? Where does it hurt?” Dr Ziegler says, scanning his body and the machinery.

The man grips at his faceplate, with some difficulty. Angela understands, leaning forward to guide him on how to properly undo the faceplate, but the man jolts back. His eyes are fixed on Jesse, never unbreaking. God those eyes staring at him with the most fear he’s seen on anyone will haunt his dreams tonight.

“Jesse, I think it’s best you leave.”

Jesse does as he’s told.

 

*

 

The first official time Jesse visits the infirmary is the next day, bringing a tablet with only games on it for the man who he is yet to get a name out of. He feels sorry for the guy, stuck in a room with nothing to do, no one to trust, missing half his body. He wishes he could fix the other two problems, but bringing him entertainment is all he can do for now.

“Knock knock,” Jesse says as he peeks his head into the room. As he walks in, those blood moon eyes are trained on him immediately. Then, they check what’s in his hands. Lastly, they look at the top right-hand corner of the room, checking if the cameras are off. “I know more than anyone how brain-rottin’ sittin’ here all day is. I’ve been here one too many times for Dr Ziegler’s likin’.” When the man in the bed simply stares at him, no anguish or fear, Jesse continues. “I brought you some games to kill the time. There’s ‘bout a thousand games on here, no joke.” He puts the tablet down on the bedside table.

The man in the bed is no longer staring at him, but where he used to be. Can’t imagine that’s a good sign. “Pardon me, I forgot to introduce myself,” Jesse says, taking a step back so the man without a name is looking at him again. “Name’s McCree. Jesse McCree. You got a name?” Jesse tries, and fails. He straightens up and tips his hat, obviously trying to not be awkward.

Jesse is now realising that conversations with this guy will be one sided for a while, he’s probably traumatised to hell and back. Jesse decides to leave then.

 

*

 

Over the next few days, Jesse visits the mysterious man every day, sometimes even twice in the same day if he can think of something else to bring him. The first time it was video games. The second time it was a can of spray paint, ‘to cover up them nasty camera’s you’re always worried about’ (much to Dr Ziegler’s disliking). The third time, it was to leave a plushie he won in a claw machine on his side table while he was sleeping.

On the fourth day, he brings him chocolate. A small block, approved by Angela, of course. It took some real convincing, but she gave in eventually, soft smile on her face. As Jesse enters, the man is awake and tapping away at the tablet, but he puts it down as soon as he notices him. Jesse smiles, one hand behind his back, the other waving. “Howdy. Likin’ what’s on that tablet? My own personal collection.” Jesse steps fully into the room, hand still hidden as he steps towards the chair he slept in a few nights ago.

He stops when he notices the man tense up when he gets closer, attempting to see what’s behind his back. Jesse realises what he must think. “Oh, sorry, pal. It was going to be a surprise, but…” Jesse trails off, obviously still attempting at a grand reveal. “I got you chocolate! Doc approves, so you don’t have to worry about Angela whooping you for eatin’ it in secret.” Jesse hands it over to him, surprised when he lifts his hand to take it from him instead of just staring at it blankly. He doesn’t eat it, but he holds it, head tilted.

Jesse sits and plunges into a story, one that happened earlier today, then one that happened years ago that still manages to make Jesse laugh. He talks of how Reyes didn’t think golf balls could bounce, and he pegged one at the ground as hard as he could to see how high it’d go, only to gain a black eye. He talks of the sunrise at Gibraltar, and his first pet dog. He talks and he talks and he talks, happy to relive his happiest memories with someone who could use a little cheering up.

He was in the middle of telling him about ‘the pool incident’ when the other man suddenly spoke up.

“Genji,” he said.

“Sorry?” Jesse said, blinking a few times as if to come back to the present.

“My name is Genji.” That’s all he offered, and Jesse sure as hell was willing to take it.

“Well hey, Genji,” Jesse said, grinning ear to ear. He was clearly satisfied with himself, and it probably boosted his ego that he was the one to get him—Genji—to talk.

Genji said no more and so Jesse carried on with his story, happily beaming at his audience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank GOD I can call him Genji now. Was getting hard to not be repetitive.


	3. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates will probably take a week to do. I just got back to work, school (year 12, final year), and started a university program. So to say i'm a little busy is an understatement. Actually playing Overwatch has a priority over writing about it tbh. Really enjoyed writing this chapter though.

It’s been exactly four hours since Jesse got Genji to talk, and he’s still vibrating in his chair in the cafeteria. Gabriel is across from him, rolling his eyes up and sighing every time Jesse mentions Genji.

“I swear to ya, Commander, this guy has a hidden backstory that I WILL unlock. Picture this,” Jesse says, waving his hand in an arch across his face. “Genji, cowboy… _vengeful_ cowboy. His mother was murdered by the Japanese mafia—”

“Hold up,” Gabriel interrupts. “Why on Earth would he be a cowboy?”

“Yeah, that doesn’t add up. He doesn’t appear to be a loser.” Ana chips in, smirking into her tea.

“Hey!”

“He’s obviously ex-special forces,” Reyes continues.

“ _The vengeful cowboy’s_ mother owed them money and when she couldn’t pay them off, they tried to abduct our little Genji. She borrowed money to escape her abusive husband. On the day they realised she was saving money slowly for Genji’s college fund instead of paying them everything she could, they were at her door in minutes.”

Jesse takes a pause, filling the silence with a drag of his cigar. He leans back. “The man who pulled the trigger? Her husband. Genji’s father. Boom. Plot twist.” His audience of two groaned, rocking their heads back and praying to any god that would listen to _please make him stop_.

“He saw it happen with his own two eyes. He was nine, and from that day on he was out for blood.”

“Jesse, eat your food so you can’t use your mouth to attempt humour,” Moira says, sitting down with a plate of food.

“You weren’t here for the start of the joke…” Jesse trails off.

“That was meant to be a joke?” Reyes asked, furrowing his eyebrows. Jesse kicks him from under the table and Reyes laughs.

“I heard enough, at least where you said ‘boom plot twist’ so I presumed you were making up another dumb story. About Genji, I suppose? You have been lovestruck ever since he… graced you with his voice,” Moira said the last part in a mocking tone, earning a giggle from Ana.

Jesse grumbles as he shoves eggs into his mouth, ignoring the fact that his face feels hot as people nudge and throw dirty jokes at him. Jesse is enjoying the comradery. He wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in this moment.

Except… with Genji. He gets a satisfaction out of being with Genji. He feels like the person he needed when he first joined Overwatch. When he first joined, no one understood why he was the way he was. Angry, just so goddamn angry. No one ever said to him “hey I know you’re not angry at me”. If someone had, he likely wouldn’t have lost a year of his life to drinking and isolation.

To be able to give someone hope, to give them the ability to see past the present and keep their head above the water, it helps him stomp the feeling of worthlessness.

 

*

 

A muffled ‘Jesse, no’ could be heard as Jesse wheels himself into Genji’s room the next day, shutting the door behind him. Genji looks up at this, curious as to why Jesse had wheeled himself in on a wheelchair.

“Howdy partner,” Jesse says, doing a little wave salute at Genji. A gesture he must have picked up from Lena, he’s sure.

“Greeting,” is all Genji offers.

“So, I thought of a game we could play.” Jesse rocks back and balances on the big wheels of the wheelchair. “Basically, you balance like this and see who lasts longer.” Jesse wobbles. “Or, you could time yourself if I’m not around and try to beat your own time.”

Genji simply stares at Jesse, arms crossed over his chest. Jesse falls flat on his back. Jesse chuckles and looks over to Genji. He doesn’t even acknowledge his fall.

“Or… I guess we would just sit and talk.” Jesse stands up and sits in the chair he slept on not too long ago.

“I don’t want to talk,” Genji says. He avoids Jesse’s eyes by looking at the ceiling.

“That was talking.” Jesse points at Genji. Genji scoffs.

“No it wasn’t.”

“Yes it was.”

“No it was _not_.”

“Yes it was!”

Genji remains silent in frustrated defeat. The pachimari plushie Jesse left on the side table now resides on the floor. Jesse only noticed this because Genji is staring at it, no clear emotion visible under his visor.

“How are ya feelin’? And I don’t just mean physically,” Jesse asks, leaning back.

“Whatever you think you know about me, you don’t.” Genji is wearing the hoodie again, unhooked from the machines around him. Hiding himself.

“I know you almost got slaughtered. I know you’re mixed up with the Shimada Clan and choke the hell out of people on first instinct.” Jesse levels Genji’s gaze, and if he’s scared of the fury he sees in his eyes, he’s not showing it. “Whatever you’re dealing with… I want to help.”

“You have _no_ idea what I have resting on my shoulders.” Genji sits up properly.

“No,” Jesse says, glancing at the hospital bed railing which Genji’s metal hand has _crushed_. “but I know that look in your eyes. I sorta know what it’s like to feel pissed off, so… so… ‘why me?’.”

“Pissed off?” Genji barks, a sharp laugh follows. “We’re well past that. You do not know what it feels like to wake up in a body which is _literally_ not your own. You do not know what it feels like to be on the brink of death, holding in your organs with one hand because the other was chopped off, and to see an angel, only to find out she was a doctor in some military-esque organisation who wants to turn you into a weapon.”

“You’re right, I don’t. Obviously. You think I’m delusional? I know that I got my body and you don’t got yours. I ain’t asking to be trauma buddies. I want you to get whatever it is you need. Water? Revenge? You got it darlin’.”

“And why should I trust you? Do you know who I am?” Genji asks. As Jesse opens his mouth to speak, he interrupts. “Who I _really_ am?”

“A criminal?” Jesse shrugs, nonchalant.

“…An understatement.” Genji seems thrown off by Jesse’s calmness. He loosens his grip on the side railing.

“Do you know who I am?” Jesse rebuttals, attempting to devalue his argument.

“Jesse McCree. Member of the Deadlock gang…”

“Former member,” Jesse adds in quickly.

“Whereabouts: unknown. Status: dangerous. Shoot to kill.”

“Woah. Am I really that famous?” Jesse seems proud of himself, the smug bastard.

“Wouldn’t know. I just simply did my research,” Genji says, crossing his arms across his chest and leaning back. Jesse’s ego visibly deflates. “You know, you should really log out of your social media before you lend someone you don’t know your device. Especially when it has your full name and date of birth on it.”

“I locked those apps.” Jesse raises an eyebrow.

“I’m a criminal, remember?” There’s a trace of amusement in Genji’s voice.

Jesse smiles. “Okay, you made your point. You don’t trust me because I was a criminal. Keyword: was. If you’re a criminal, which you just admitted by the way, why should I trust you?”

“Don’t. I will vivisect you with a shard of glass if it’s in my best interests.”

Jesse laughs at that, and to his surprise, so does Genji. Just a little bit. His statement is 100% true but at least he can see the humour in it.

“Is that what you were plannin’ to do when we first met before you went and collapsed on me?”

Commander Reyes bursts in, slamming the door on a wheelchair, making both the boys jump. Jesse stands to alert immediately.

“Agent McCree.” Oh great, _‘agent McCree’_. Can only mean one thing. “Our agent undercover in Hanamura has been exposed.” Genji looks over to Reyes with a purpose as he hears the name of his hometown. “He’s currently being held captive by the Shimada Clan, being tortured for sure. This is time sensitive. We are to conduct a stealth search and rescue mission immediately. Your gear is on the dropship. Let’s go.”

“I’m going with you,” Genji says, sitting up and throwing his legs over the side of the bed. His completely robotic legs.

“Like hell you are,” Reyes says, taking a step towards Genji.

“You want me to join Overwatch? I join. Now.” Genji is standing now, arms crossed. His posture is elegant but strong. He’s clearly been raised like that.

Reyes exhales. “I understand that these people almost killed you—”

“They did!” Jesse shivers at the edge in Genji’s voice as he says that.

“—but you have been here for less than a month—”

“I don’t care.”

“—and I don’t even know your last name, for God’s—”

“Shimada.”

The birds outside died as the name was spat out through gritted teeth. Not a single breath could be heard from anyone in the room. Reyes’ face was frozen, the gears in his mind jammed.

Jesse feels the wind rip out of him as Genji continues, “My family deserves to die, and it’ll be at my hands. Try to stop me and you’ll face the same fate.”

“Well shit.” Reyes runs a hand down his face. A moment passes before he continues. “Follow Agent McCree to the dropship while I talk to Dr Ziegler.”

“You plannin’ on tellin’ Strike Commander Morrison about this?” Jesse asks, giving Reyes a side-eyed glance.

“Sure, _after_ the mission.” Reyes smirks.

“That’s the Reyes I know.”

Commander Reyes leaves. Genji and McCree look at each other, then head out to the dropship. As they walk along the corridor, Angela can be heard yelling, unleashing her wrath on the Commander. Reyes is taking it like a champ.

“Who is Morrison and why aren’t we telling him about my accompaniment?” Genji asks, sceptical. He continues walking to the dropship nevertheless.

“He’s the head of Overwatch. If we told him about you comin’ he’d put a stop to it.”

“Insubordination. Add that to your ever-growing list of trustworthy qualities.” Genji’s eyeroll can be heard in his voice.

Jesse smiles to himself and shakes his head. “Somethin’ tells me you already trust me, Genji.” He says.

“Blood is thicker than water, McCree. And my blood tried to kill me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used to main mercy (95 hours so far) and I met this really funny god-like McCree who i pocketed the 3 games I played with him. It was amazing. I now main reaper, btw.


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm back again and ready to finish this shit. Haven't written for enjoyment in literal years as the HSC ruined my spark and love for writing. So happy to be back.

The serenity of the scene in front of Jesse is butchered by the stabbing feeling in his chest. Genji is sat alone on the drop ship, next to a window at the back of the ship. As he stares out of it, longing in his eyes, he fiddles with the shurikens in his forearm absentmindedly. It looks like something out of a movie, but laced with hurt. 

Leaning against a wall in the dark corner, Jesse tips his hat down to cover his eyes, only his cheekbones and jaw visible from the smouldering cigar end, sending a silent prayer on the behalf of Genji to whatever greater lifeform may exist. After a moment, he pushed himself forwards towards Genji.

He sits down next to Genji, not too close, but close enough that he can see the gloss over his eyes. Time passes without a single sound being exchanged. 

“I do not know what I will do if I encounter my brother,” Genji says, consciously putting a stop to his fiddling by placing his hands on his knees. He is looking forward, out into the winter snow grancing the night sky. 

Jesse looks into him, attempting to hear the words Genji doesn’t say. His eyes scan his cybernetic body and widen once it clicks. “He did this?” 

“It would be wrong to blame the puppet for the puppeteers intentions.”

“You were raised by the same family, and yet you didn’t…”  _ Kill your own brother,  _ Jesse wants to say, but doesn’t, not needing to say what Genji already knows. 

“Yes, which is why I don’t know what I’ll do.” 

 

*

 

_ “I want to kill you right now.” It’s Hanzo that says this. It holds no strength. Genji feels a kick at his shin under the table. It’s actually quite impressive considering how expansive their dining room table is. Youth lines Hanzo’s face, unaffected by age and responsibility. Genji picks up the spoon next to his bowl and looks into it. Upside down in the reflection is a toothy grin of a six-year-old.  _

_ Amidst the blank staring genji was doing at his spoon, Hanzo kicked him again. Always the one to one-up his brother, he hurls the spoon with precision at Hanzo’s forehead. Bullseye. He growled through his teeth and threw it back at him, although Genji was prepared. He ducked under it with ease, smiling smugly as he sat back up. _

_ The smile soon fell as he heard the smash behind him. He swung around to see the damage; it was a vase. A family heirloom. “Damn,” Hanzo cursed, face no longer overruled by petty anger. “We’re doomed.” Hanzo’s shoulders were shaking, white knuckle grip on the table edge. _

_ “No,  _ I’m  _ doomed,” Genji said, hopping under the table and popping back up next to Hanzo. “Swapsies.” _

_ “What? I broke it,” Hanzo says, finally looking away from his bowl to Genji. _

_ “I’m not old enough to be hit with the stick.” _

_ Hanzo ducks under the table without another word. As if on cue, their mother walks in, personal chef on her heels. She sits at the head of the table, bottom half of her hair out and minus her heels she was wearing when she got home. She sighs, looking between the two boys. Genji and Hanzo stared desperately at each other, not even looking away to thank the waitress when their dinner was placed in front of them. _

_ “Which one of you broke my great great grandmother’s hand-crafted vase?” She placed down her utensils and clasped her hands in front of her on the table. A beat. _

_ “It was me, mother,” Genji mutters, looking up to meet her drilling eyes. _

_ “Why would you do such a thing, little sparrow?” _

_ “I did not mean it!” Genji pleaded, raising his voice unintentionally. “I threw my spoon at him. I was trying to scare him, mother,” Genji lied. _

_ She sighed again. “Do you know this to be true, Hanzo?” _

_ “...Yes,” Hanzo said, looking guiltily at his little brother. _

_ “So it seems. Genji, go clean it up. No dinner for you. You, stupid one, are grounded-- _ and  _ on wash up duty. Go tell the kitchen staff why they will be going home early without pay.” She waves him away. _

_ Genji does as he’s told, standing at the door while the cook/clean up staff pile their chef jackets into his arms angrily.  _

_ Later that night, while Genji sits in his room practicing throwing his shurikens, Hanzo enters with something stuffed under his nightgown.  _

_ “Ate so much you got fat, huh?” Genji says, ditching his throwables in the corner. “I like it. Makes me look better than you.”  _

_ Hanzo rolls his eyes and removed a bag of food. More specifically, dinner from earlier. Genji’s eyes widen as he hastily takes the plain rice. “Sorry I couldn’t bring you anything better, soup is a little hard to smuggle out of a kitchen,” Hanzo says, sitting against Genji’s door to slow down any unexpected visitors that might catch them.  _

_ Genji is already half done the small serving of food, mumbling a “ _ _ Dōmo arigatō” around a mouthful of food. Hanzo laughs as Genji drops some rice on the floor, shrugs, and eats it anyway.  _

_ Genji is sitting across from Hanzo, smiling wide. “Thank you,” Genji says again, maintaining eye contact and dipping his chin a little.  _

_ “Thank  _ you,  _ Genji. I’m only sad I couldn’t bring you more,” Hanzo says, taking the bowl from his younger sibling and stashing it on the windowsill between Genji and his bedroom. _

_ Hanzo stands, nodding to Genji, and leaves.  _

 

* 

 

Genji is brought back to the present by Jesse’s hand on his bare shoulder. He hadn’t even realised he was shaking with grief. He looks over at Jesse, met with eyes that only remind him that he has a reason to grieve. Genji clamps his jaw shut hard, forcing back tears that Jesse can’t see, but knows are there, threatening to flow.

Genji turns his head straight onwards, away from Jesse and towards outside. Although it is uncomfortable to do so, Genji uses his flesh hand to meet Jesse’s hand on his shoulder, taking sharper breaths as he allows himself to be comforted. 

Jesse looks away also, tipping his hat, so that if Genji turns, he wouldn’t see the redness of his face. Although it is a sorrowful moment, it is oddly intimate. A connection of hands and emotions. 

Nobody even dares goes near the back of the ship as they stay like that for the rest of the trip. 


End file.
